


Close The Curtains (Kill The Actors)

by nic_takes_Ls (nic_L)



Category: Dreamsmp - (Video Blogging RPF), Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 'Villain' Wilbur Soot, (but he doesn't know Wilbur is one too), (not graphic), Angst, Double Agents, DreamSMP - Freeform, Gen, LIES ALL AROUND, Lies, Manberg, Mental Instability, Not Beta Read - We Take L's, Plot Twists, Pogtopia, Self-Sacrifice, Suicidal Thoughts, TNT, TRIPLE AGENT??!, Traitor!Wilbur, Wilbur Soot-centric, Written pre-nov 16th, a beach :(, i fuckcijn predicted this hnng, it's a bit complicated, lol, sand but 😢, suicidal idealization, the future is mine to wield, traitor!Technoblade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:41:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27500971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nic_L/pseuds/nic_takes_Ls
Summary: While Schlatt hissed vitriolic at Tommy and Quackity, reading their hidden clause and snarling, Wilbur has been waiting in the button room for a cue, picking at his nails.“That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”“Wilbur!” Tommy’s voice was panicked, a warning.His cue.Wilbur grinned, sharp and gleeful, before his face contorted into a troubled grimace and he pressed a useless button.“Where- where the fuck’s the TNT,” He’d muttered, horror painted in his tone.Made sure the sound of his pickaxe and muttered curses were audible over the communicator as sounds on the other end flooded it. He dropped the pick on the floor and turned away from the wall, coat flared behind him and casting shadows.“Do not press any buttons near Pogtopia.”He delivered his line.Chaos ensued.Cut, he’d imagined. One take, flawless and smooth.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 28
Kudos: 254





	Close The Curtains (Kill The Actors)

Wilbur ends the call with Tommy and Quackity, and whoever else is on there right now.

He sighs. Brushes his wild curls from his face and smooths out his expression. Creased eyebrows and a wide, manic gaze are turned into an eased, but still not quiet normal smile.

Presses ‘undeafen’ on his communicator.

“Wilbur!” His name rings out clear and tinny, the voice saying it warm and fond.

Also distinctively American.

“Schlatt,” He greets back.

“Damn, if that wasn’t the best fucking two-faced show I’ve ever heard, holy shit. I mean, you went for it there, had me worried, actually.”

A smirk pulls at one end of Wilbur’s lips and he makes his way past Pogtopia and to the beach.

“Thanks, Schlatt. You- well, actually, you kinda dragged everything out a bit, but great performance overall. Except for that strange little weight shtick. Actually that might’ve helped throw Quackity off some, so... Is Dream still in this call?”

A breezy laugh crackles through Wilbur’s communicator.

“Yeah, no, yeah, I’m here. Take a bow, both of you conceited assholes.”

Wilbur does, and hears Schlatt’s faint laughter as he presumably does the same.

“Well, Dream? Thoughts on the show?”

Wilbur makes in to the edge of a beach and sits down on the sand, waves lapping near his feet.

“Uh- Damn. Well, they believed every word, it sounds like. And they definitely think Techno’s the traitor.”

Wilbur lets water meet his fingertips and wipes his face, concealer cleansed and leaving behind huge purple shadows under his eyes. Starts to try and arrange his hair from its purposefully knotted state into his previously typical style.

“They’re right. And Techno- still doesn’t know about me?”

“Nope.” Schlatt sounds gleeful.

Wilbur is too.

“I can’t fucking believe-“ He laughs, grinning down at the communicator in his lap. “They really think-“ He cuts himself off with another laugh.

“I know,” Schlatt’s communicator crackles.

Dream wheezes a laugh this time. “You got your own son to turn in a spy’s log of faked weaknesses, well, credits to you, Schlatt. They think you’re an alcoholic.” He addressed Wilbur again. “You ‘united’ the Pogtopians and Manbergians, then helped plant distrust of a traitor already. I- Y-You just manipulated everyone into setting a _date_ for you to blow Manberg to smithereens.”

“Gentleman’s war my ass.” Schlatt mutters, grin audible in his voice.

The trio crack up, minutes on end until Wilbur is sprawled and gasping for breath on the sand, cheeks aching.

“Oh my god, though. You two are so much better at- well, being fucking dramatic than I am.”

Dream complains.

“Wilbur, how did you sound so- genuine, in the button room, I mean, Jesus.”

Wilbur lays on his back and with fingers dusted in sand, brushes his hair from his face.

It was strange, that.

While Schlatt hissed vitriolic at Tommy and Quackity, reading their hidden clause and snarling, Wilbur has been waiting in the button room for a cue, picking at his nails.

“ _If we kill you now, who’s going to detonate the TNT?”_

He’d chipped one earlier that morning, caught it on a splinter in his pick handle.

“ _The_ _dominoes_ _have already started falling.”_

Wilbur was leaning against the wall, clacking his boot heels together to a rhythm in his head.

“ _Did you get_ all _the TNT from L’Manberg?”_

Wilbur had messed up on his rhythm, a bit off tempo, and bit his lip, counting steadily.

“ _That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”_

“ _Wilbur!”_ Tommy’s voice was panicked, a warning.

  
  
His cue.

Wilbur grinned, sharp and gleeful, before his face contorted into a troubled grimace and he pressed a useless button.

  
  
“Where- where the fuck’s the TNT,” He’d muttered, horror painted in his tone.

  
  
Made sure the sound of his pickaxe and muttered curses were audible over the communicator as sounds on the other end flooded it.

  
  
He dropped the pick on the floor and turned away from the wall, coat flared behind him and casting shadows.

  
  
“Do not press _any_ buttons near Pogtopia.” He delivered his line.

  
  
Chaos ensued.

  
  
_Cut,_ he’d imagined. One take, flawless and smooth.

  
Now, he hums and replies to Dream.

  
  
“S’not that hard, honestly. Just-“

  
  
“ _Acting_.” Schlatt cuts in, a hushed, faux-awed tone. “It’s kinda what we’re good at.”

  
  
“Yeah, no kidding.” Dream mutters.

  
  
“Aw, don’t worry, Dre! We’ll get you some lessons in before the 16th, I promise.” Wilbur “You get me that gunpowder and I can teach you how to tell the truth and still not let anyone think you’re the traitor.”

  
  
“Right, I can get on that. Got my looting III sword on me now.” Dream’s end has the faint sounds of a sword unsheathing, hum of enchantment runes soft.

“And I’ll bring the sand. Brilliant! Talk to you later, Dream.” Schlatt echoes a goodbye and then it’s only the two of them in the call.

A scene change- different roles are played and as the conversation starts, the cameras don’t stop rolling.  
“Hah. It’s odd how things turn out, isn’t it, Wilbur? All that long ago, we were running from bombs from the sky. Now we’re laying them down under our feet. Well- you are.”

Wilbur is, isn’t he. He hums in agreement. Schlatt keeps talking, for some reason.

“At the end, this is probably going to be the greatest feat we’ve ever done.”

He bites his tongue.

“Do you know where I am? I’m standing at my window, looking out at Manberg. There’s the tree you and those dicks are praising, the dance floor, the podium-”

Wilbur snaps.

“Where you executed Tubbo?”

“Jeez. Techno did that. And didn’t we talk about this? I’m sorry, and I know it wasn’t a part of the plans, but Tubbo got too sloppy for even Tommy to say I didn’t notice, alright? You’re about to do much worse.”

Wilbur sits up from where he sits on the shore, hair loose from the damp breeze and hanging over his eyes.

“Just get to the point, Schlatt.”

Schlatt chuckles, a sound so familiar.

“Just wanted to let you know I’m glad you’re on my side. And that when Tommy and his bozos lose, you can give them all the special treatment you want back in Manberg. If they’ll accept it, after- You know.”

“After I betray them.”

The words are easy to say.

“I’m a traitor.”

Those are too. They’re just ugly words. And true, so very true in every form.

Schlatt makes some sort of noise of agreement over the call, and continues.

“Right. Next on the agenda? Same as every night; basic plan outline, repeat it back to me.”

Wilbur rolls his eyes and stares out at the waves lapping at his feet as the sky darkens.

“Gather TNT and begin building it around Pogtopia, construct redstone circuits, while also lowering morale for Pogtopia members. You work on creating the spawn trap and breaking spawn beds. On the 16th, during the fighting, you and me head over to Manberg and prepare to set off the explosion. Techno’s already declared he’s the impostor. We enter call and do some fun dramatic speech shit and blow them to pieces. They end up in the spawn trap itemless and we announce our joint rule beside Dream. Woo.”

The plan used to be a lot longer, and more vague too. But the festival and Quackity’s meeting and their proposition with Dream is over and they’re so close to the end. Wilbur closes his eyes and leans into the sea breeze.

“Woo, yeah. Listen, do you know what Tommy’s planning to do next? He’s not going to go actually- Confront Techno, right?” Schlatt asks and then mutters under his breath; “’Cause that man does not do a good job of lying, god.”

“No. I’m pretty sure he’s trying to build a railway, for some reason. Shouldn’t change anything.”

“Great. Alright, I’m going to get Techno up to date on stuff, and no, we’re not telling him about you. Talk to you tomorrow, Wilbur?”

“Talk to you tomorrow. Bye Schlatt.”

Schlatt hangs up. Wilbur slumps into himself, shoulders hunched and head aching.

The cameras stop rolling. Finally.

A wave crashes in the distance and Wilbur blearily opens his eyes to watch it.

He’s so tired. His limbs ache and his eyes droop, and even his fingertips pulse with pain.

He’s tired most of all, of acting. He knows he’s really going mad, his characters are shaky and so is he- He just plays it up a bit when Quackity looks over, watches him.

Another wave hits the shore and runs high, reach the soles of his boots, laving water over the sandy treads.

Wilbur blinks slowly and then turns to the sky. He wonders if the Sky Gods would be proud of him, the child they took and raised and tortured and turned him all wrong.

He wonders if Philza would be proud of him. He thinks he would be.

Wilbur stands, coat fluttering in the ocean’s cool breeze. He’d rather sleep on the shore, no stage, no camera, lights off and audience gone. He’s just so tired.

But he knows he won’t be for much longer. He won’t be tired after the 16th, with everyone else -Tommy- fighting in Pogtopia against his own brother and yet safe. Wilbur’s not going to need redstone or a button at all, he’s not going to line that horrible ravine his brother now calls home in TNT. After that one fight, Tommy is going to be safe forever more.

Wilbur will strike the match, light the fuse himself and Schlatt by his side, he’s going to be swallowed in flames and put himself and L’Manberg, his unfinished symphony, to rest. Take a bow as the fire starts sizzling and give a goodbye into his communicator, watch Schlatt’s golden eyes widen in realization.

_End the show. Close the curtains. Kill the actors._

Wilbur smiles. He turns and starts shoveling sand.

**Author's Note:**

> AWEioajpfjhpahgwj 
> 
> Wilbur traitor arc, November 16, 2020; kudos to charge, bookmarks to cast
> 
> no but seriously this was inspired bc i read a theory that Wilbur may never have put TNT under L'Manberg and vomited out this at my computer. :)
> 
> Thank you to the writer's block discord server for helping with the title <3
> 
> I am ALSO going to attempt to write ANOTHER traitor!Wilbur au but it's a sequel to Explosure Therapy by the 16th hahahahhahahahha


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